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Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Blame it on Rio

If you're confused by that photo above, trust me, I understand. It's two guys; one in some sort of a tutu and one in a fuzzy pink vest (under the fuzzy pink vest was a gold lame bikini top that I was more than a little jealous of by the way) and they are playing beach volleyball. Because tutus and fuzzy pink vests are normal volleyball attire for men in The LPV. Obviously.

Now that I've said 'beach volleyball' and 'The LPV' I'm thinking that maybe you've put two and two together and figured it out... Brazil Day!

Oui! Brazil Day!

The LPV loves that large country in the Southern Hemisphere so much that Brazil Day has become an annual affair (with Honey Jr. already talking about some big surprise for next year... oh the suspense!) and has even been exported to other villages.

Unlike last year, Brazil Day was not setup in the middle of Le Petit Village's main street in front of Le Petit Bar. I guess the organizers (Honey Jr + Brother-in-Law) realized that soccer balls and volleyballs flying around tables with drinking glasses on them is not the smartest idea. This year the large pile of sand was dumped in the parking lot of the Mairie. So much room for activities (ten points if you can tell me what movie that is from).

We (The Husband, Mr. London, Mrs. London, her brother, Fifty and me) arrived at 10:00am sharp because the invitation stated 10:00am. Silly us, we forgot we were in France.

The festivities finally kicked off about 11:00am with the three on three football (soccer) tournament.

There's Gatz's team. They did pretty well until they played The Husband's team (The Husband, Mr. London, and Mrs. London's brother). The Husband's team had lost their two previous matches due to practically being comatose on the pitch (I'm blaming the Honey wine from the night before and the three hours of sleep) and by the time they played Gatz's team, they had had enough of losing, so they played a bizarre mixture of soccer and rugby resulting in a win and a broken toe for The Husband (cheating does come with a price).

All the while that was going on, Mrs. London and I did what we do best, we sat in a corner, sipping Rosé, and gossiped. It's a talent.

We did manage to break away long enough for me to show Mrs. London around the original Le Petit Village.

No 10 points for me. What is with these French villages and their love of foreign countries. In our village, no celebration for the 14th of July but a huge blowout for the Fête des Belges. I don't get it.

...

Fáilte, Bienvenue, and Welcome!
After ten years living life as an American expat in Europe, I've returned to the States with my French husband and dog in tow.
Follow along on my adventures and misadventures as I bid adieu to the Gypsy lifestyle while trying to set down roots and navigate my new life as an ex-expat back 'home' again.